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perfection.

in my dreams i dive into a pool of peroxide.
my hair is finally platinum and all of this unnecessary flesh
is burning
melting
away.

i feel as light as a bird
skin is the only protection i have from prying hands.
your ugly fingernails keep digging into my scalp,
they are trying to grasp the only dignity i have left.


my deteriorating arms and legs keep swimming
swimming in tiny circles.
you laugh at the irony of
the only way i could be free
was imprisoning me.

eyes are bleeding and hair is falling out.
perfection is so hard to maintain.

puzzles.

papa and i always did puzzles together.
we'd split them up,
i'd get the sides.
he'd get the middle.
the middle is the hardest, you know.

i would watch him concentrate on the challenge in front of him.
furrowed brows and eyes scattering quickly over the incomplete parts.

each section he'd complete slowly,
i used to get angry with him.

i always figured out the middles first.

we continued the task in front of us,
piecing together the past and future.

it seems like he does the sides nowadays,
the beginning and ends.

while i fill in the middle.

long island railroad

i'm on a railroad, looking between the intersecting tracks. each crossing is rusted and unreliable.
for years, conductors have decided which path to take, which way to go.
what if they went another?
what would the passengers do.
would they crash from the excitement rushing to their fingertips as they went somewhere forbidden?
a journey that wasn't planned, and was properly executed.



i wish i could do that.




so i keep on trying to decide, keenly listening to the loud obnoxious sound of "ding ding ding ding,"
and the red light is flashing.

i'm not supposed to go now.
and i have just realized that i've always been waiting to make the right choice,
the right train to ride.


maybe it's better to walk across these tracks and to keep walking.
never having to wait, being my own conductor.

thoughtless dolls.

you look in fascination.
you wonder how a body can become
so ridged,
so tense.
all color seems to be drained out of her once pretty face.

she looks like a porcelain doll that's too fragile for ugly, human hands.
eyes,
nose,
lips,
hair,
you notice how she and you both are the same.

the same in a twisted nature of being paralyzed with no individual thought of your own.
it's mindboggling how the simplist ways of living can leave the body without a trace.
bravely, your rough fingers glide along the beauty's jawline,
tiptoeing the lines of taboo.


how cold.



compared to the dead, you're freezing.

destiny.

steps align with the stars, stars that have guided me to this very point in my life. the rush of blood to my head as i look up towards my path is exhilerating. emotion. how silly of me. was i supposed to live this way? be the person i am now? tell me constillations of circumstance, i'm curious. did you plan this? karma, perhaps? it's exhausting to keep following your tale of happiness.

the sun suits my taste much more than your milky plains and glowing lights. a little bit of that bright ******** star creates a peace within myself that is so unique, something i wish to bottle for safekeeping. people die from the heat. how can something so stunning suck all of the life within a creature?

oceans are too salty for me. it reminds me of the tears i often come to experience. maybe god created the oceans by crying. i wonder if beauty ever feels emotion. feels life.

do you feel it too? that fatal pull to continue onwards, to run for the cause of all things right and divine? i know i'll never get an answer, so i'll just pretend you like the feeling of my lips against yours, that cold mask stealing my warmth. ******** to think i never believed in destiny.

beneath the sheets of paper lies.
happiness creates hazardous results, love is just a simple consequence.
continue jotting every sweet web of folklore foolishly believed in.
sleep simply isn't necessary when bodies turn numb and stiff.
emotion is life. live life. feel.
finger prints and secret smiles.
consequences.
heads held up high, pride inflated egos perfect facades.
happiness is a hazardous result.
you're just my consequence to life.

I want golden locks sprouting from my head, growing tangled and untamed like weeds in a deserted garden. Locks like rays of sunshine seeping into the ground, pulling me closer to reality. True desire. To melt into the warmed earth, energy lost and screams never prevailing. Lose myself and all thought as I become one with emotion.


Euphoria was always temporary.

Art

Love love love lovely love love. It was always the word that raced across my mind when my eyes glazed over your form. I used to count the creases in your smile, bask in the emotions radiating off of your entire being. The way your laughter would boom with happiness, or how your body was consumed with sorrow. I noted the sadness intact in your eyes, I really did understand. You were someone I could relate to. Every detail that could be seen I memorized, desperate to have you ingraned in my memory. For all of that time, there wasn't any doubt I loved you. Sometimes, I thought you were the most expressive creature I have ever met. It was the true meaning of beauty. A beautiful peice of artwork that was never meant to be touched.

You were love to me, at that time.

helplessness.

as a young girl, i remember the day i lost my innocence. we were in the park on a chilly fall day, it was around dusk. you had tears in your eyes, and you explained to me how things would be changing. what was changing? i asked. what was changing what was changing what was changing? the thought still goes through my head sometimes. you never responded, just cracked a reassuring smile that calmed me into a false sense of security.

you were already gone to me in that car ride back home. the colors were zooming by on the high way, i was trying to count the bluring figures. i was wishing i was in any of them, someone else for a little while. the silence was sickening, even then i could feel the tension. i fiddled with my hands, my skirt, anything near me. i couldn't look you in the eyes, i realized what was happening on that 3 hour trip. you were leaving me. there was nothing i could do about it, it seemed. was i not good enough? will i be good enough? was i ever good enough ? did i ever make you proud? ever ever ever. no, i answered my constant wondering. how would you be proud of a stranger?

all i have are the memories that you left with me. there the only thing i have left of you. a broken past that you decided on having. that helpless feeling washes over me as i write this. there will always be self doubt, i'll always feel unworthy of the love i've never had.

I love the concepts in your poems, which says a lot because the concepts are usually the parts I hate about poems. Your poems are kind of overwritten, though - they aren't very elegant. They have a lot of excess words.